Defenceless
by Terrorking Tragedian
Summary: Sam, the abused child. Sam, the neglected child. Sam, the delinquent. Sam, the insecure child. Outside of home, she puts up a brave face. But nobody knows the horrible truth.
1. Defenceless

_Revision: 9 March 2010_

This chapter was rewritten in its entirety. Further revisions will be made when I have the energy. If you want to see the original of this chapter, you can request!

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly, but I'll gladly do whatever the hell I like with it, within the legal boundaries of 'fair use'. Eat your heart out, Nickelodeon.

* * *

Defenceless

Scena I: In 2001

_Help me. Help me!_

"...thump...thump!...THUMP!!..."

The floors shake. I tremble.

"...Thump!...THUMP!!..."

She's coming up the stairs. It's ten past midnight.

"...Samantha..."

Oh, oh my god. She's drunk again.

"Sh-samantha!"

_*sob*_ Oh god! I better hide before she gets here.

"THUMP!!,,,THUMP!!!"

I run. I grab a big pillow, duck behind the couch, and hug it tight against my chest.

I sob quietly. I shake violently. _*sob*_ I feel...cold. _Help me. Help me!!_

I brace myself.

"...SAMANTHA!!"

BOOM. I hear the door fly open and smash into the wall behind it. It splinters and creaks in pain. Planks fall on the floor; they sound like tock-tocks. There goes another door.

My momma storms into our little grey apartment. I sneak a peek from behind the couch. She stands there at the doorway, teetering on the spot. Her eyes are crossed; her hair in a tangled mess, her dark pink dress in disarray; a small glass bottle hangs precariously at the tips of her fingers. And I bet she smells like beer again. I hate her. I hate her. She is not my momma!

...But she is my momma. She with cold fire in her eyes, and murder in her heart.

_*sob* Help me! God, help me! P-please!!_

The glass bottle slips out of her hand, and crashes onto the floor. It breaks into a million pieces all over the place. (The sound woke her up?) She glares around the living room once. Twice.

"SAMANTHA! Where are you!? COME OUT NOW!!"

_What sounds of the devil! What horror! The shrieking bellows of a drunken..._

"SAMANTHA!! Don't make me come get you!"

I cry. Quietly. I shut my eyes and keep them tightly closed. I tremble and sweat like never before.

"...Here I come..."

She whispers. I know I'm done for when she whispers. I hear her prowling around the kitchen, then the bedrooms. I bite the pillow hard, to stop myself screaming. Ugh, I hate her! I want to die!!

"Gone...just like your father..."

I hate him! I hate him too!! I hate you all!!!

I barely stifle a loud gasp for air. I can't breathe. I hurt, I cry, I shake; I'm lying behind the couch hugging a cushion in a pathetic attempt to hide myself. I have nothing. I am defenceless.

_Please God, please end this...Seriously. End this._

"...there you are..."

I feel a hand close around the scruff of my neck. I feel the shock of my heart stopping. My lungs just fainted. Oh god, she found me. Now I'm going to die. There's no running away.

I can smell the stench of beer. Cold fingernails bite my flesh. I felt the hand lift me up on my feet. I comply; like an ass, I rise gingerly. I keep my head down, staring at a pair of woman's feet. Dirty lilac stockings, two weeks ripe.

"Hiding?"

I want to scream. I can't stop trembling; I can't breathe, can't talk.

"Stop crying."

SMACK.

I taste blood. Blood is coming out of my nose and mingling with the tears and mucus on my face.

"Stop." SMACK.

It burns.

"N-n-no, mom-m-ma. I...I...st-stop...*sniff*... c-ca-can't..."

"STOP IT!"

She whacks me on the left temple. She hit me so hard I almost fell over. I wail, and start crying aloud.

"Stop. Stop. Shut. Up."

"I...*gasp* I try...*sniff*...I...st-stop *gasp*"

_Liar, liar, pants on fire!_

"LAIR! JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER!!"

She hits me in the face with an iron fist, swung from arm muscles made of steel rope. I scream in horror, as stars instantly blind me for a long moment. The savage blow knocks me onto the floor. I hit my head against ceramic tile, and lay down, unwilling to stand back up.

"I'LL TEACH YOU A LESSON, YOU USELESS – (she slaps me in the face), WRETCHED – (she slaps me on the other cheek), THING!! (she hits me a third time)"

I peer through bloody eyelids for a second. She is red as the Devil. Her nostrils flare and exhale beer-soaked vapours. Her mouth is askew, and her face a twisted evil yet pain, like someone being tortured by fire. This is not the face of my mother. I am being raped by a monster I don't know.

Momma is breathing heavily.

"You...are...ruining...my...LIFE!!"

With the last syllable, she hoists me up to my knees, so that I kneel before her, arms dangling loosely by the side, head bowed. I am a pathetic creature, weak, fragile, very, very tiny. I am defenceless.

"Say...it...Say you ruin my life!"

I keep crying.

"SAY IT, DAMN YOU!!"

_Momma, I didn't do it! I didn't!_

"STUPID BRAT! FILTH! FILTH, JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER!"

A drop of spit lands on my forehead. It burns like acid.

"I...*gasp*...I – "

"YOU WHAT?! SELFISH BRAT! IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT YOU, IS IT!? Why won't you think of others? Huh? WHY WON'T YOU THINK OF ME?!"

"I...*gasp*...s-sorry...*sniff*"

"Why must I keep living, and serve you?! LIKE A DOG!!"

She slaps me again. I scream. Suddenly three loud knocks come from the ceiling and ring through the still night air. The neighbours upstairs have been awoke.

"Say you're sorry!" she roars.

"Mm-ma...I...*sniff*...sorry..."

"SAY IT!"

"S-s-sorry...momma...*sniff* I...*sniff* love you..."

"Say it again!"

"I love you...*gasp* I...*sniff* sorry."

She backs away a little. I continue to whimper and sob, like an injured animal.

"...And what are you sorry for?"

"For...*sniff*... ruining your life..."

"And will you do it again?!" she growls.

"I-I won't d-do it ag-gain...I *gasp* love y-you..."

I quieten down. My mother is calm now. She stands up, coughs and retches a little.

"I taught her a good lesson..."

She staggers away, not bothering to throw off her badly stained pashmina, into the red bedroom. I stay where I am, not daring to moving. Then there is the sound of a large body collapsing on a springy, old mattress.

I get on my fours very slowly, still sobbing, still shaking. My body aches like it had just been beaten. The world suddenly seems blurry and distant. I hear deep rumbling noises of a sleeping giant like from a mile away. I see grey......I knew it! I'm going to die.

"_In nomine patris..."_

I want to disappear. I want oblivion. I can't move. Lord, free me.

"_...et filii..."_

I try to crawl onto my bed. Every muscle in me screams in protest. I can't go on; I lose my strength. The last teardrop makes its descent onto my bedsheet. I lay my head on the mattress, my legs under me. At least half of me made it to the bed.

"_...et Spiritus Sancti..."_

I see, peering through eyelashes, a growing pool of red before me. I don't care anymore. My eyes flutter, then shut. I moved no more.

Good night.

"_Amen."_

_

* * *

  
_

Note: March 2010 revision has toned down the language - all that unnecessary vocabulary – to achieve a more childlike POV, which is more appropriate in this situation. (The numerous linguistic errors are, in fact, intended.) I hope readers who have read the previous edition will appreciate this one. Still not sure how it turned out, though.

And by the way...do you think it's a good idea to write a narrative recount in the present tense?

Terrorking Tragedian


	2. Urtext'

Nah, phooey. So I decide to load this 'original' text of the first chapter anyway, just for the record. I'll get rid of this soon, maybe...

If you liked the first (i.e. previous) chapter, don't read this. Seriously, it sucks. But feel free to cross-refer if you so wish.

The next chapter will be done by...like, immediately.

And by the way, 'defenceless' is the British spelling of what you know, and it's what that's being taught where I live, so go nuts. Just for clarification. Thank you, Nature9000.

Disclaimer: Same as before.

* * *

Defenceless

"SAMANTHA! COME OUT, NOW!!"

She stormed into the apartment, with cold fire in her eyes, and murder in her heart.

The door, having taken a massive hit from the woman's arm, slammed against the wall next to it with a resounding bang. It was the drum of war; a signal that the armistice was over. I hugged the pillow tightly against my chest and braced myself. The battle was about to begin.

It was a war at home that had raged on since my father left our family for another. A war, in which I was always on the losing side. The victim. Blood will always be shed during the ensuing violence, and various types of serious injuries will be inflicted on me. Bruises, cuts, black-eyes – point is, I've never gotten away Scott-free. Here she comes now. I braced myself. There's no running away.

"SAMANTHA!"

BOOM!! With strength of a giant, she kicked down the door to my room. The anguished scream of the wooden door was akin to that of an exploding cannon. I too screamed and buried myself deeper into my bedcovers, all mental defences gone in an instant. She knew how to undermine my defences; she always did. She was, after all, my mother.

And I was just a seven-year-old girl.

I stood no chance.

"COME HERE, YOU LITTLE WRETCH!! YOU THINK YOU CAN RUIN MY LIFE AND GET AWAY WITH IT?!"

"Momma, I didn't do it! I didn't!"

"STUPID BRAT! FILTH! FILTH, JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER!"

"MOMMA, NO!! PLEASE!!"

The arm came. The muscles in her arm all turned into steel ropes, and like a flail she flung it straight at my head. The iron hand collided with my head with immeasurable force. Stars immediately sprung up before my eyes, as tears swam in and clouded my vision, and a horrible blinding pain took roots at my left temple, to stay for long. I fell off the bed, hit the floor hard and lay there, unwilling and unable to get up.

"YOU'RE A WASTE OF LIFE! A WASTE OF MONEY, WASTE OF RESOURCES, WASTE OF SPACE!!"

I peered through my eyelids at her for a brief second. Her face was redder than usual, although she was still wearing that brutish expression which appeared every time I played the role of her punching bag. There was a baleful, demonic glint in her eyes that seemed to make them shine with malevolence more intense than before. And her voice, though thunderous and seething with unspeakable anger, carried a tinge of iciness and contempt.

Clearly, that day, she was pissed.

"STUPID GIRL!! USELESS GIRL! WHY ARE YOU SO LIKE THAT BASTARD WHOM YOU CALL YOUR FATHER? WHY ARE YOU ALL TRYING TO RUIN MY LIFE!?"

I got up slowly, trembling with trepidation, eyes fixated into hers; they seemed to draw my gaze like an evil magnet. My left temple was still smarting from the blow, pulsing with pain like a dull ache.

"Mommy, don't, don't, please...I..."

"YOU WHAT?! SELFISH BRAT! IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT YOU, IS IT?! WELL, SOMETIMES YOU NEED TO THINK OF OTHER PEOPLE! WHY MUST I SERVE YOU LIKE A DOG!?"

Her eyes, ablaze with malice, burned into mine. All of the sudden, the room felt like a furnace and a freezer at the same time.

"I'LL TEACH YOU A LESSON, USELESS – (she slapped me in the face), WRETCHED – (she slapped me on the other cheek), BEAST – (she bashed my face with her hammer-like fist)!!"

I just stood there and took the blows without a moan or cry, for any pitiable sound would only provoke the monster more. Tears cascaded down my cheeks like streams, getting mixed up and dyed red with the blood now flowing profusely out of my nose. Crying was a cardinal sin – it would only mean another hour's worth of beatings and terror. I pressed my arms to my sides and bowed my head, looking at her through my eyebrows.

"WELL? SAY YOU'RE SORRY!!" she roared. A drop of spit landed on my forehead and burned like acid.

"I'm sorry mommy, I'm sorry..." I croaked in a thick voice, choking on more than just tears. The sobs were coming.

"And what are you sorry for?"

"For ruining your life..." I said more quietly still.

"And will you do it again?!" she growled fiercely; her fire in the furnace was starting to wane.

"I-I won't d-do it ag-gain..." I stuttered. Oh no! The sobs! Why did I have to break down now?!

"What did you say?!" The calm was gone – the fire in the furnace had rekindled. The woman took a step forward and fixed upon my small frail frame a venomous glare.

"I-I...I...won't...I love you..." I managed to say through the choking sobs. Horror and fear coursed through my veins in equal measure. My heart was positively throwing itself against my chest, as if trying to escape the body I was about to cast away. Thumping like a mad drum, even the monster heard it loud and clear.

"I repeat," she whispered with suppressed anger, like a kettle that was about to blow, "what did you say?"

It angered her to see me cry. A sight of pity only served to incense the beast. Yet the sobs and tears kept coming traitorously. I could hold them back no longer.

"I...l-l-love you...mommy..." I quavered.

"LITTLE LIAR!! DO YOU NEED ME TO TEACH YOU A LESSON!?" the monster bellowed. As she advanced to beat the stuffing out of me, I let resignation take over and steel my body.

I surrendered. She had won. And hell would be my punishment.

She knocked me down, and then proceeded to use a wide array of weapons on my body – punches, kicks and hard whacks with various instruments. Maybe it was due to the blows, or maybe it was blood loss, but I began to lose my grip on consciousness. The room before my eyes bounced from side to side in the box of my mind. Tears clouded my vision once more; I was grateful about it. And during the flurry of flailing fists and kicks of punishment, I felt only pain. And oh, what an unholy pain it was!

Why was my own mother doing this to me? What have I done wrong? I no longer entertained these questions. The answer was obvious to me now. I deserved it. It was my fault. I ruined my mother's life, and made my father leave us. It was my entire fault. And I would take the punishment as it was due.

Pain. Terror. Despair. Humiliation. But pain above all else.

"Mommy, no!"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP, BRAT!!"

"STOP, STOP! MOMMY, STOP!!"

"DON'T YOU TELL ME WHAT TO DO!! DIE! YOU DESERVE TO DIE!"

"NO! NO! MOMMY, IT HURTS!"

Condescending laughter rang in my ears, blocking out reality. All of the sudden, the blows stopped. I ceased to see; my eyes were either closed or blinded. Every bone, fibre, ventricle on my body burned like as if white-hot pokers were being pressed on me on all sides. I smelled blood, I tasted blood. It was salty and warm, like the bitter tears it was mixed with. Without a single unbroken bone in my body, I simply lay there like a beanbag, totally helpless and defenceless.

"I taught you a good lesson..."

The words seemed very distant, like they were being shouted from a mile away. Everything went fuzzy, unstable, grey...I was losing consciousness...I knew it...I was about to die...lying on the bedroom floor in a pool of blood...how dramatic this death is...I deserve it...

Then shrouds swooped down and covered my eyes. I went to sleep, hoping against hope that I wouldn't wake up again and go back to the hell I so wanted to escape.

Then I woke up. I opened my eyes and found, to my dismay that I was back in hell. I lived. I survived. I lived a living death.

And that was my life. The pathetic life of a seven-year-old girl.

* * *

Note: And here's why it sucks. It's overly garish, terribly difficult to read, and totally cliched. And there are always better ways to present a cliche.

See ya soon with the second chapter!


End file.
